


Make It My Own

by deirdre_aithne



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Disability, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-09
Updated: 2013-05-09
Packaged: 2017-12-10 22:02:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/790676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deirdre_aithne/pseuds/deirdre_aithne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life is never fair and very seldom easy, Harry knows all this. But when he's losing everything, sometimes it's hard not to bow and break, and let it drag him down. And that, of course, is where Severus comes in, to keep him on his feet and remind him that not <i>everything</i> is lost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Make It My Own

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Snarry-a-Thon 2013 on LJ. -- Title shamelessly taken from a quote by Nicholas Sparks: "In times of grief and sorrow I will hold you and rock you, and take your grief and make it my own. When you cry, I cry, and when you hurt, I hurt. And together we will try to hold back the floods of tears and despair and make it through the potholed street of life" - _The Notebook_. Many thanks to SD for all her hard work in betaing this piece, and for her cheerleading services, as well as those of S and A - without the three of you, I'm not sure I'd have ever actually made it through this fic and the emotional rollercoaster it was for me.

Eucalyptus and spearmint.

That's what Severus smelled like – Harry could remember that much. After he'd been downstairs in the laboratory in their basement for a while, it was tinged with notes of sandalwood and something like wet earth. And after a long day of teaching at Hogwarts, he would sometimes Floo home with the scent of ash from an errant explosion clinging to his robes. But underneath it all, it was always eucalyptus and spearmint. He knew those two words, what they should mean, like the back of his hand after all these years. But the scents of them, either separately or mingled, that is what escaped him.

At first, he'd still been able to describe what they should have smelled like. But when his nose could no longer refresh either scent, the rest of him began to forget the subtleties of them, until all that was left were two empty words. Scent memory could only last so long when the ability to smell _anything_ was lost to him. Now, it was all but impossible to spark association between what he knew he should smell, when he breathed in the fresh air of the back garden, and the memory of those scents.

Flowers, sunshine, and fresh air. He'd known them as clearly as he'd known _Severus_ , once. Before...

Sucking in a ragged breath, Harry pursed his lips and turned sharply on his heel to stalk back into the house. A gentle breeze was blowing through the garden. He'd been able to feel it brushing his face, toying with his hair and setting the leaves of the trees just outside the fence to sway, but he'd smelled nothing at all.

It was all gone, now.

It had been for weeks, really; he hadn't expected for it to have suddenly changed. His sense of smell had started to go in early November, and by the start of May, it had gone for good. Even knowing it had been coming hadn't made it any easier to bear. Instead, he'd spent three agonizingly long months waiting, caught between desperate hope that Severus was _wrong_ about the spell that had hit him, and the certainty that he wasn't. When he'd noticed his sense of smell first starting to go, it had almost been a relief that the wait was over. Followed immediately by a crushing hopelessness.

 _"It will take away everything,"_ Severus had told him all those months ago. _"It's the very worst sort of Dark magic."_ His sense of smell would be the first to go, Severus had said. Followed by taste, and then touch. Hearing would be next, and finally, his sight would go, leaving him entirely isolated from the world around him. For a moment, when he'd first heard, he'd dared to hope that there was something they could do – Severus knew enough of the Dark Arts and Potions, he'd surely be able to help him.

But when he had asked, Severus had only shaken his head and refused to meet his eyes. _"There isn't a counter-curse, Harry, nor any potion to cure or delay the progress..._ This time _, there's nothing I can do to save you." The words had crushed him, sucking what little hope he'd clung to from him in an instant and leaving him feeling lost, until Severus had reached for him and he'd lifted his head to look at him. Severus' eyes had been full of tears, and as their gazes locked, Harry remembered feeling tears starting to wind down his own cheeks as they'd simply sat there with their hands gripped tightly together._

Shaking himself again, Harry gritted his teeth and slammed his fist against the frame of the doorway he had stopped in. His feet had carried him right back through the house and to his and Severus' bedroom while his mind had been lost in memory, and for the hundredth time that week, he felt a pang of guilt and unbearable _ache_ in his heart as he looked at their bed. Tucked underneath it, hidden from Severus with several very carefully placed charms, he could see the handle of his suitcase still sticking out from where he'd stuffed it quickly – half packed and ready to be filled at a moment's notice, and then he could be out the door.

He hadn't bothered securing a place to stay in advance. He figured that he'd sort that out once he finally broke down enough to leave. To _run_. Harry knew that's what he was really doing, running away to save Severus from having to go through all of this with him, and to try to lessen his own pain in any way he could. His sense of taste was already starting to go, and that, he supposed, he could do without the easiest of any of them. Although, in a home filled with dangerous potions, lacking a good sense of smell _and_ taste could be disastrous enough.

But what would come next was what would kill him. Losing the ability to feel Severus against him, to hear his voice, to _see_ him...

Harry swallowed thickly and made a strangled sound. His fist struck the door frame again before he stepped into the bedroom and wrenched his suitcase from beneath the bed. The sooner he was gone, the better for both of them, obviously. Severus would hurt – he'd most likely hate him, by the end of it – but he would move on. And he... he would find someplace to hide away and lose the rest of it alone, if his own broken heart didn't take him out first.

Jerking open the dresser drawers, he began pulling his neatly folded clothes out by the armful and depositing them hastily on the bed. Socks, pants, and trousers jumbled together with his shirts and jumpers, half of them coming unfolded when they tumbled from his arms. By the time he had emptied his own drawers, he could feel the tears starting to stream down his cheeks and made a strangled sound of frustration, reaching up to wipe at his eyes with the back of his hand.

" _Fuck_ ," he whispered roughly to the empty room. His gaze settled on his mess of clothes, and the opened suitcase beside them. Several books and his out-of-season clothes were already packed at the bottom, with a handful of other necessities. It had taken several attempts to pack even that much, with him breaking down each time he'd tried because some part of him never wanted to go. Still didn't. And time and again, he'd let that part of him talk him back down off the cliff and keep him home another day. Another week. Another month.

His hands trembling, Harry forced his feet forward towards the bed, despite the protests from that same part of him. There wasn't any more _time_ to wait, now. Once touch started to go, he wasn't sure he would be able to bring himself to go at all, and he couldn't force Severus to endure that loss with him, or any of the ones that would follow. If he was going to run, he had to do it now.

Biting down hard on his lower lip, he blinked rapidly several times to clear the haze of tears in his vision and quickly began shifting through his clothes, refolding a few things as he tucked them into the suitcase. With his hands shaking, it took a few tries to straighten up a few of them, and after only a few minutes, he had to stop, glaring down at the neat stack pants and trousers he'd managed to arrange while his teeth sunk further into his lip until he tasted blood.

"Harry?"

Severus' voice was low. Confused. Strained... The sound of it made Harry jump, before he closed his eyes and bowed his head, feeling the tremors in his hands begin to spread through the rest of him.

"I thought you had Hogsmeade duty this weekend?" he asked. His voice sounded rough to his own ears and he opened his eyes in time to see Severus moving in his periphery, crossing towards him from the doorway. Refusing to lift his head, he instead shifted his gaze back to the contents of his suitcase while a fresh wave of guilt crashed over him.

"Filius took my place," Severus answered coolly. His hand settled on Harry's shoulder, curling around it to grip him firmly and force him to turn. Rather than speak, he remained silent, then, though Harry could feel his gaze burning into him until he finally, reluctantly, lifted his head.

Severus' expression was dark, his eyes narrowed and jaw firmly set, and despite himself, Harry quailed beneath his gaze. "You're _leaving_?" he asked tightly.

Swallowing, Harry managed a nod as he forced himself to step back, shaking off the other man's touch and turning his face away. It took considerable effort to steel his own expression, gritting his teeth and taking a deep breath until he felt more in control of himself, though he didn't dare to _look_ at Severus, still. "It'll be better this way..." he said as he turned himself back towards the bed and reached to refold a rumpled jumper.

"Better for _who_?" Severus snapped. To his credit, he didn't reach for him again, and Harry was relieved, the physical space making it easier for him to cling to the shreds of his composure as he dropped jumper into his suitcase and reached for the next piece of clothing.

"Both of us."

Harry's voice was hardly above a whisper, and he kept his focus squarely on his hands as he folded up his shirt and laid it over the jumper. He felt a lump rising up in his throat and bit down hard on his lower lip once more when a stray tear slipped from the corner of his eye until the pain centred him again, no longer caring about the taste of blood the action left on his tongue. "You deserve better than-"

" _No._ " The harsh note of Severus' voice brought Harry up short, and he made a strangled sound as Severus' hands settled on his shoulders again, holding him tight and forcing him to turn around again. The other man's fingers dug into his skin with bruising force, and when Harry looked up, Severus' eyes were still dark with the turmoil of his emotions. Anger and desperation, swirled with determination and the same look of agony Harry was sure was reflected in his own features. Still, Severus clung tight to him, even as he tried to step back, forcing him to stay where he stood, and Harry watched the muscles in his jaw work tightly as Severus swallowed.

"No," he repeated in a softer tone, although the word was no less firm for it. "You do _not_ get to do that to _me_. You do not get to tell me that I deserve better, after everything you did to convince me I was worthy of you." The muscles in his jaw flexed again as he paused, and Harry felt tears welling up in his eyes as Severus' expression scrunched slightly, his brow furrowing and the corners of his mouth twisting downward. Seven years ago, Severus never would have allowed himself to show his weakness, and now, he made no effort to disguise his own pain as he continued to grip Harry hard and held his gaze.

"But-"

Severus' hands moved from Harry's shoulders, reaching up to cup his face instead, and Harry felt himself trembling as Severus' palms pressed against his cheeks, his skin warm against his own. "You do not get to _back out_ on me just because now you think _you_ are not good enough," Severus whispered in a strained voice.

Closing his eyes against the tears that welled up at the words, Harry ducked his head and tipped it to one side, pressing his cheek into Severus' palm as he let out a strangled sound. Severus was right, he knew; it wasn't right and it wasn't fair of him to run, and the pain he'd caused Severus just from trying was clear in every word. Looking up through his lashes, he raised a trembling hand to lay over Severus' against his cheek, and pressed the other man's hand more firmly to his face, until Severus withdrew and pulled him flush to his chest instead. Instinctively, Harry buried his face in Severus' shirt and took what felt like his first proper breath in months, bringing his arms up to wind around Severus' neck as another sound escaped him, just before he allowed himself to dissolve into sobs.

His body wracked with them, his tears soaking into the fabric of Severus' shirt until the damp fabric clung to his cheeks. And all the while, Severus held him with his arms wrapped tight around his middle and face buried in his hair, until Harry's own tears had slowed to a stop. With a series of loud sniffles, he rubbed his face against Severus' shirt in a vain effort to dry his face, and paused when he realized Severus was trembling against him and felt the wetness in his hair.

" _Severus..._ "

Pulling back, he looked up at Severus and moved a hand to wipe at his cheeks for him, his thumb rubbing along the damp skin of his cheekbone. Severus leaned into his touch and Harry offered him a watery smile when he blinked and another tear wound its way down his face. He opened his mouth to speak, then, letting his hand linger on Severus' cheek, and then closed it once more without a sound after a few seconds passed. All the words that came to mind seemed to die on his tongue, and after a second attempt, Harry shook his head and leaned up instead, curling his free hand around the back of Severus' neck at the same time to pull him down until their lips pressed together.

The kiss was soft at first – an apology that Harry couldn't find the words for otherwise – until Severus took a ragged breath against his lips and dragged him closer still, all but crushing Harry against him. Sucking in a soft breath of his own, Harry pressed his hand more firmly to Severus' cheek and leaned into him, filling the kiss with promise then as he moved his lips against Severus'. Neither moved to deepen it any further, and Harry felt the heavy ache in his chest easing as they continued to cling to one another. When they separated at last, he stayed close against Severus, tipping his head to rest against his shoulder with a quiet sigh.

"I'm a bloody fool," he murmured into the fabric of Severus' shirt. Severus didn't speak to agree or argue, and Harry couldn't blame him for it as he burrowed closer into his warmth. To his relief, Severus' arms tightened around him, and one hand came up for him to thread his fingers slowly through the dark strands of Harry's hair, pulling a strangled sound from his throat. Closing his eyes, Harry let himself melt further into Severus as the gentle touch soothed the last traces of worry from his mind and left him feeling more settled than he had in months.

"Will you help me unpack my things?" Harry asked at last, breaking the silence that had stretched between them once more. He turned his head to shoot a sideways glance at the half-packed suitcase and frowned at it, before raising his gaze up to Severus' face while a light flush rose up in his cheeks. "I know it's not much, I could do it myself, but..."

"You would feel better if we were to do it together," Severus supplied when he trailed into silence, and Harry nodded. There was a pause while Severus simply held him, searching his face for a long moment before he tightened his arms around Harry briefly, then released him with a short nod of his own. "I suppose it might help us both feel somewhat better."

* * *

_The street is cramped as Harry and Severus weave their way through it, the bodies packed in tight around them making Harry feel almost claustrophobic. More than once, he feels a tug at his arm in one direction when he attempts to go another as the two of them try to weave their way through the crowd. At one point, he glances to the side at Severus and chuckles under his breath as he watches the other man scatter a group of young witches with nothing more than a glare, clearing a small path for them._

_"If you ever drag me to one of these idiotic things again..."_

_"Yes, I know, you'll hex me or some other such thing," Harry finishes for him. A smile twists at his lips as he squeezes Severus' hand. "Come on, Severus, it's not all bad. It's sort of fun, isn't it?"_

_Harry yelps as Severus stops in his tracks to look at him with one eyebrow arched. They're standing a bit too close to one of the display booths, though, and he gets jostled aside after only a second, snapping at the burly wizard who'd bumped into him, while Harry has to sink his teeth into his lower lip to keep from laughing outright._

_"You call this_ fun _?" Severus hisses when he regains his feet properly and shoots a glare at Harry. "It's suffocating. Far too crowded, and rather pointless, beside."_

_"It's meant to be enjoyable."_

_"Do I look as though I am_ enjoying _myself, Potter?"_

_Despite himself, Harry's lips still twitch as he tries not to give away his own amusement at Severus' annoyance. "Alright, fine... You're not having fun, and really, we've seen most of what there is to see. It's a lot of the same stuff from last year, really..."_

_"My point exactly - it no longer serves a purpose." Severus' tone is laced with a note of smugness that breaks down the last of Harry's resolve and he lets out a quite chuckle as he presses himself against the other man's side. Ignoring Severus' glare, Harry slips an arm in his and starts to tug him back through the crowds towards the Leaky Cauldron up the road._

_"Whatever you say, love," he murmurs affectionately as he tips his head briefly against Severus' arm. He feels the tension in him before he sees him react and pauses, looking up to find Severus' attention has focussed elsewhere, his face turned off to one side and eyes narrowed. The arm in his flexes, and Harry steps back with confusion etching into his features as he watches Severus draw his wand. "Severus-"_

_"_ Snape! _"_

_Harry's head snaps in the direction of the voice, his gaze following Severus' to the man pushing his way through the crowd from one of the side streets that branches off from Diagon. The hood of his cloak is pulled up over his head despite the warmth of the day, and the wand in his free hand never wavers from Severus, even as the man jostles now and again before he manages to break through the crowds. There is no clearing made for him, though, and when he finally stops, there are still a handful of people between the man and Severus. Still, he's near enough that when he speaks, Harry is able to see his mouth moving, and without thinking, he throws himself between them as the spell falls from the man's lips._

_All he sees is a flash of bright, white light around him when it strikes him, before the pain sears through his body and tears a scream from his lips as he crumples to his knees._

Harry bolted upright in the bed, his body drenched in a cold sweat as he gripped his hands in the rumpled bedsheets. His breathing came in heavy pants as he snapped his head from one side to the other, looking around the darkened bedroom with a lingering sense of panic before it began to fade and he dropped himself back down on the bed with a heavy sigh. Reaching one hand up, he raked his fingers through his hair once and pressed his eyes closed as he felt tears dampen his cheeks.

He could still remember the pain that had ripped through him, leaving every part of him screaming in agony as he'd collapsed onto the ground at Severus' feet. He'd been unable to move for quite a while, after that, only half conscious as Severus had managed to get him away from the festival and through the Floo at the Leaky to home. And there he'd lain on the sofa for what he'd later found out was the better part of the afternoon before he'd really recovered enough to move. His eyes had been burning and his ears ringing all that while, leaving him disoriented and confused as to exactly how he'd gotten home, and entirely unable to recall much of anything that had happened after the curse had struck him. But those sensations had cleared quickly enough, as had the strange sort of itching in his skin, and it was then that Severus had told him what had happened.

Harry shuddered as he shook his head quickly to clear away the memory. He tried not to linger too much on the dream whenever it came now, knowing it would do him no good and only encourage him to slip back into the state of depression he had been dancing along the edge of only weeks earlier. Beside him, he felt Severus shifting, likely half-woken by his own movements, and Harry rolled onto his side towards him to slip his arm around Severus. He burrowed against him for a moment, leaning in to press his face into Severus' neck and nuzzled him with a soft sound until he felt him settle once more. His breathing evened out and he burrowed further beneath the blankets, and Harry let out a quiet sigh of relief as he slowly pulled back from him.

Sliding out of the bed, he took a moment to press the heels of his palms into his eyes as he pulled in a slow, deep breath and let it out with a huff, dropping his arms back down and shaking himself once more. The memories never failed to leave him feeling off-kilter, and as much as he needed Severus, he needed to get himself sorted out a bit first. He slipped his glasses off the bedside table and blinked a few times to clear the last traces of sleep from his vision as he slid them on before searching the floor for his clothes from the night before, settling on a pair of trousers and a crumpled jumper at last. As quietly as he was able, he tugged them on as he crept out of the room, fumbling slightly as he tried to step into the trousers without breaking his stride too much, determined to get downstairs to the kitchen and settle himself with a cup of tea.

He took the stairs two at a time and hit the bottom at a half sprint that carried him right into the kitchen, where the cold floor beneath his bare feet gave him pause and he slowed. It was only a matter of minutes before he got the kettle on the range and set the tea to brew, and Harry leaned himself heavily against the edge of the counter while he waited, one foot tapping restlessly and his fingers drumming on the counter top. His mind made every effort to wander back to his dreams, and Harry bit down hard on his lower lip while he began recounting old potions lessons in an effort to keep himself focussed on anything but.

By the time the kettle whistled and he moved to pour his tea, his hands were trembling, and Harry was hard pressed to keep from sloshing tea all over the counter before he set the kettle down hard, rattling the burner of the range from the force of it. Taking a deep breath in a vain attempt to steady himself again, he turned his focus to his tea as he began spooning in sugar and cream, adding only a few teaspoons of each before he stirred and took a sip, only to replace the mug onto the counter.

It was bland, almost as though he hadn't let the tea steep at all, or even added anything to it. As good as a mug of hot water, really. Shaking his head, Harry pushed back the strange sort of ache that started pulling at his chest and spooned a bit more sugar into his mug, adding a touch more cream as well before he took another sip. Still, somehow, it wasn't quite right, and Harry all but slammed his mug back down as he reached again for the sugar.

He tasted his tea twice more before Severus came down and wound his arms around his waist from behind without a word. His breathing ragged, Harry could only bring himself to lean back against him slightly as he trembled in his arms. The stirring stick in his hand scraped against the bottom of the mug and he could hear as well as feel the granules of sugar that refused to dissolve into the drink, it had become so saturated with it already. It was only the few sips he'd taken already that kept the mug from overflowing entirely with the extra cream he had added, and still he'd been unable to taste anything at all. Sniffing loudly, Harry stopped stirring and reached up to wipe at his eyes with the sleeve of his jumper before picking up the mug again.

He squeezed his eyes tightly closed as he took a hesitant sip, choking on the tea as a sob lodged in his throat, before he managed to force himself to swallow. Granules of sugar clung to his tongue, but still he tasted nothing, and yet, he couldn't bring himself to stop again, taking another drink as Severus' arms tightened around him. Slowly, he drained his mug dry and replaced it gently onto the counter. His hands settled on the counter's edge, then, gripping on to it in a white-knuckled grasp.

His trembling had increased in the few moments it had taken him to finish his drink, and when Severus dipped his head to rest his chin on his shoulder and press their cheeks together, Harry realized that his skin was damp once more. Sucking in a ragged breath, he sniffled and eased a hand off the counter, reaching up to wipe at his eyes again.

"I'm sorry I woke you," he rasped out and winced, the rough quality of his voice making him uncomfortable. He ducked his head and began to push away from Severus, stopping when the other man tightened his arms further to pull him back flush to his chest. For a moment, Harry very nearly gave in to the temptation to lean into him, before he shook himself and made another attempt to move away, pushing against Severus' arms. "Severus-"

"Hush."

It was all Severus said, his voice gentle while still being firm, and Harry opened his mouth to protest before ultimately falling silent. He ceased his struggles and allowed Severus to move in and press his nose into the curve of his neck, closing his eyes again as he focussed on steadying his own ragged breathing. Severus nuzzled him lightly until he finally settled, leaning back against Severus' chest while he took one unsteady breath after another until his trembling eased. A fresh wave of tears rose up in his eyes then, just as his breathing began to even out, catching him off guard as they began slipping down his cheeks.

" _Severus..._ " Breathing out his name, Harry turned and buried his face against Severus’ chest as he burrowed into him, his arms coming up to wind around Severus' neck. The feel of Severus' bare skin against his cheek only made it worse, as Harry let out a quiet sob but couldn't bring himself to move away. Rather, he tightened his arms around Severus' neck and moved his hands to tangle his fingers in Severus' hair, heedless of the answering hiss of pain when he pulled at the dark strands.

"I-I can't-" Harry stopped as the words lodged in his throat with a choked sound, struggling to catch his breath properly again through his tears. When he couldn't quite manage it after several seconds had passed, he simply shook his head and pressed his body closer. He tipped his head back to look up at Severus, struggling to make out his features through the haze of tears that blurred his vision.

When a hand settled against his cheek, Severus' thumb wiping at his tears for him, Harry broke, a wretched sob bursting from his lips as he lifted himself up onto his toes to bury his face in Severus' neck. "It's _gone_ , Severus... It's all gone."

It shouldn't have been a surprise, really – his sense of taste had been going for months now. At first he'd simply ignored it, then he began over seasoning nearly everything he ate or drank in an effort to cling to what little taste he still had left. But the past couple of weeks had been the final march towards the end of it, and he'd known. Really, the last time he could remember tasting much of anything at all had been at least two weeks earlier, when Severus had brought home some sort of curry. For all his love of spice, even Severus hadn't been able to palate more than a few bites of it, while Harry had devoured more than his fair share of the stuff as he'd savoured the taste of it. It had been hot, and the flavour muddled, but it had been _something_ , which was all that mattered.

Yet, somehow, it had taken until now for the point to fully hit home, that it was all gone. The blow coming that much harder with Severus holding him as the comforting embrace only served to remind him what was next.

"I know, Harry," Severus murmured gently into his ear, and Harry felt a shudder rip through him as Severus' hand began to move over his back. The touch was light, meant to be soothing, and it set every nerve in his body on fire as Harry focussed on the sensation, on the heat of Severus' hand, even through the barrier of his jumper, as it moved up and down along his back. Severus drew a long, slow line along the length of his spine, his touch lingered between Harry’s shoulder blades and again at the base of his spine before sliding upwards once more to start all over again.

Letting out a shuddering breath, Harry shook his head, tangling and twisting his fingers in Severus' hair. " _No_ ," he whispered as he rubbed the dark strands between his fingers, closing his eyes tight against another wave of tears that threatened to spill over. " _No_ , Severus, you _don't_."

Harry bit down on his lower lip as he pulled away, pushing hard against Severus' shoulders to force him back a step and break his hold. Turning his back to Severus, he wrapped his arms around himself, ducking his head to avoid watching the hurt he was sure would be flashing across Severus' face as he closed his eyes tighter and Apparated upstairs to the bedroom.

Without Severus, the room felt colder as Harry crossed from the doorway to the bed, not bothering to shed his clothes again before dropping himself down onto the mattress and curling onto his side. Even the sheets felt cool beneath him, the chill creeping through the fabric of his jumper and soaking into his skin as he pulled his knees up towards his chest. He paused for a moment and heard the sounds of Severus moving around downstairs in the kitchen, opening cupboards and running water with seemingly no intention of coming after him. Letting out a quiet sound, Harry shuffled over towards Severus' side of the bed and wrapped himself around his pillow.

 _He's_ the one who left the room – who pushed Severus away – but it didn't stop him from wanting Severus to follow. Shaking himself to clear that thought away, Harry pulled the duvet up high around his shoulders as he squeezed his eyes tightly closed and tried to will himself back to sleep, even for just a little while.

* * *

"Aren't you going to eat, mate?"

Harry's gaze dropped to his plate for a moment, his stomach rumbling at the sight of food. He couldn't remember the last time he'd really eaten. A few days, he supposed – when Severus had last come home from Hogwarts for the weekend.

There wasn't much point to it, when every bite was nothing but a painful reminder of what was happening to him. More often than not, Severus had to remind him to eat, and even then, there were quite a few times when Harry would start to fix something just to appease him, only to toss it out the moment Severus would leave the room.

When Severus had realized what he was doing, he'd begun standing watch until Harry had actually eaten in front of him. And when he couldn't, he would prompt him as often as possible in an effort to ensure he wasn't starving himself. His frustration was obvious every time, and Harry couldn't really blame him for that, but he couldn’t seem to force himself to suck it up and eat the majority of days. And when he finally did, it was rare that he didn't find himself doubled over on the bathroom floor to retch it all back up only a couple hours later.

Still, he'd given it his best effort today, when the plate had first been set in front of him, if only for the sake of appearances. He'd at least shuffled a few chips around, and put some ketchup on the plate like he might actually use it. But he hadn't managed much more than that, despite the painful spasms of his empty stomach, while he'd watched Ron and Hermione both tuck in to their own lunches.

Shaking his head, he pushed the plate across the table to Ron.

"Take it. I'm not hungry."

Ron only hesitated for a few seconds, shooting him a concerned look, before he shrugged and pulled the plate closer to himself, tucking into the chips without a word. Beside him, though, Hermione fixed Harry with a disapproving frown, and he quickly turned his face away from her to look out the window beside their table.

"Harry -"

"Let it go," he interrupted. His tone was firm, but in his periphery, he watched Hermione's expression scrunch for a moment before she hedged forward anyway.

"When was the last time you ate anything, Harry? You look half starved already, you shouldn't be -"

"I said, _let it go_ , all right?" Harry hissed. He tore his gaze away from the window and the street outside to meet her eyes, and the muscles in his jaw flexed as he gritted his teeth. He'd heard it all from Severus, in some form or another, more times than he really cared to count, and his patience was rapidly running thin. Hermione's lips pursed for a moment as he watched her, and the moment she opened her mouth again to speak, Harry cut her off instead. "I really don't want to talk about this, and it's none of your business besides, so please just -"

"It _is_ my business!" Hermione snapped, startling Harry just enough for him to hesitate. "You're my friend - _our_ friend -" she amended with a gesture to Ron beside her, who nodded, "- and we care about you. We know this isn't easy for you, but-"

The table rattled as Harry banged his fist against it, startling Hermione into silence. "Shut _up_ , Hermione!"

" _Oi,_ " Ron barked. The harshness of his tone pulled both Harry and Hermione's gazes towards him, and as Harry met his eyes, he found Ron's expression pinched with traces of anger. "Don't talk to her like that. She's just trying to help you, and it's not like you make it bloody easy, mate. You don't talk to anyone about it, but it's pretty obvious how hard it is on you. What do you expect us to do?"

As Ron spoke, Harry began grinding his teeth once more, his hands slowly curling into fists on the table. "You could try leaving well enough alone, for a change," he answered in a harsh tone once Ron had finished. Moving to his feet, he fixed both Ron and Hermione with a hard stare as he continued, lowering his voice to avoid a scene when a couple at a nearby table spared them all a curious look.

"You two have no idea what I'm going through, and I'm bloody sick of everyone trying to pretend that they get it, because they don't. None of you do. I'm barely scraping through this, and I know it. Do you really think being lectured all the time is _helping_ me right now?"

Swallowing hard, Harry pushed his chair aside with his foot and stepped back from the table, biting down on his lower lip hard as he turned away. His hands were shaking and he clenched them tighter to disguise it, stalking towards the front doors of the restaurant as quickly as his feet would carry him. He needed air. Needed to breathe and hopefully ease back the rising burn of bile in his throat as his stomach gave another angry protest, the stress and near-starvation beginning to make him physically ill. Before he could reach the doors, however, a hand wrapped around his bicep and pulled him back, forcing him to turn, and Harry very nearly growled in frustration as his narrowed gaze met Ron's.

"Listen to me, mate – maybe we're all going about this the wrong way, but all anyone wants right now is to help you. You might not think we do, but we understand..."

Harry closed his eyes for a moment and took a slow, measured breath through gritted teeth, before fixing his gaze on Ron's again. "Do you?" he asked flatly, although an edge of weariness began seeping into his tone. "Do you know what it's like to look at the person you love every day and know that in a year, you won't be able to hear their voice anymore? That in two, you won't be able to see them smile, or watch them laugh? To know that one day, you'll be able to tell them how much you love them, but you'll _never_ be able to hear it back again, even though they're _right bloody there_? Look me in the eyes and tell me you understand that."

Ron's mouth opened and closed once as he struggled for words, and Harry shook his head, brushing off Ron's hand where it had lingered on his arm and taking a step back. "I didn't think so." He took another step back, and then another before he turned, wrapping his arms around himself as he felt the burn rising in his throat again. Pushing his way past a couple just entering the restaurant, Harry made it out into the street as quickly as his feet could take him and withdrew his wand, closing his eyes against the sound of Ron calling out after him as he gripped his wand tighter and Apparated home.

The moment his feet were under him again, he crashed down to the floor, banging his knees against the tiles with only a hiss of pain as he reached for the lid of the toilet and flung it up. He was bloody lucky he didn't splinch himself, and really, he wasn't entirely certain yet that he hadn't, but it was hard to focus when his stomach was churning so violently. He barely had enough time to shuffle closer on his knees towards the toilet before the first wave of nausea overcame him, and Harry laid his arms around the bowl as he doubled over it and retched.

Acid burned his throat as he heaved, and when it stopped for a moment, he laid his head against his arm with his eyes closed and took a ragged breath in through his nose. It was always so much worse on an empty stomach, and as the second wave hit him, Harry felt tears beginning to well up in his eyes. By the time it had all worked it's way out of his system, his entire body was trembling and his empty stomach gave a sharp spasm of pain as he pressed his cheek against the cool ceramic of the toilet seat. His unsteady breathing began to settle, although his trembling did not, and as he cracked open his eyes for the first time since making it home, he watched the shower curtain slide back slowly.

He hadn't heard the shower running at first, over the rushing in his ears, but now, as he watched Severus look out at him with concern from inside the shower, he felt the heat of the steam filling the bathroom pressing in on him. "Sorry," he mumbled as he pulled himself unsteadily up to his feet, gripping hard onto the edge of the sink for support and keeping his gaze away from Severus while he looked around for his toothbrush. It made no difference to him, really – he couldn't taste the acid in his mouth, even if he could feel the burn of it in his throat to know that it was there – but it seemed the natural thing to do. "I'll get out in just a second..."

"I would much rather that you joined me," Severus countered quietly. The words took Harry by surprise and he hesitated, turning to look at the shower only to find Severus holding a hand out to him through the curtain. In a rush, his words to Ron came back to him, ringing in his ears as he watched Severus just _look_ at him, patiently waiting him out.

In a year, he wouldn't hear things like that again.

In two, he wouldn't see the hand reaching out for him.

But now – _today_ – he did, and for just a moment, that was all that mattered, as Harry nodded slowly. He broke his gaze away from Severus' face while he fumbled for his wand and settled for a rough cleaning charm to rid his mouth of the taste he was sure lingered there, much more for Severus' benefit than his own, before he began stripping out of his clothes. Leaving them in a pile on the floor, he shuffled closer to the shower and reached out to clasp Severus' hand hard, allowing him to pull him into the shower with him. Severus manoeuvred him until he was standing directly beneath the spray of hot water, with Harry's back against his chest, and Harry shuddered as the heat began to soak into his skin.

"Brace your hands on the shower wall," Severus instructed him in a murmur, and Harry hesitated. They hadn't been together properly in several weeks, he knew, but surely Severus couldn't think that _now_ was the best moment to try to remedy that.

"Severus -"

"Trust me."

He was certain Severus had intended it to be a statement, but there was a note of something else beneath the words. Doubt. Uncertainty. Somehow, it had become a question, and Harry swallowed back the lump that rose up in his throat as he nodded. Bringing his arms up, he pressed his palms flat to the shower wall and leaned further forward into the spray when Severus placed a hand between his shoulders. He closed his eyes and ducked his head as the water ran over him, soaking his hair and coursing over his face and down the back of his neck, following the path of his spine. Taking one deep breath and then another, he focussed on trying to relax as Severus' hands moved over him, running first down along his sides and then back up in one long, slow slide.

When his hands finally settled on his shoulders and began kneading at his skin and the muscles underneath, Harry let out a quiet sigh of relief.

"I don't want to go to the Burrow for Christmas," he said after a moment. His voice was barely audible to his own ears, and until Severus' hands hesitated on his shoulders for the briefest second, he wasn't sure they hadn't gotten lost in the sound of running water.

"We go every year."

Harry closed his eyes, his body tensing under Severus' hands until he winced as Severus retaliated by pressing the heels of his palms harder into the backs of his shoulders. "I know we do, and you always bloody hate it anyway," he answered with a note of harshness to his tone.

Severus was silent, although his hands continued moving on Harry's shoulders, his palms rubbing slow, hard circles against his shoulder blades while his fingers dug into his skin. It was far from gentle, and yet exactly what Harry needed, the firm touch easing the tension out of him until his shoulders sagged and his hands slipped lower on the shower wall. Letting out a quiet sigh, Harry shifted, leaning further forward until he was able to press his forehead against the cool tiles, and Severus moved with him, his massage only faltering for a moment before it resumed with a more gentle pressure.

"I can't take all the concern," Harry murmured at last. "If we go, I'll have to plaster on a smile for everyone else's sake, or spend the entire night having everyone ask me if I'm alright. I can't take it, Severus."

There was a pause as Severus smoothed his hands over his shoulders and then down along the length of his back. His arms wound around Harry's waist, and Harry leant back into him, tilting his head slightly to one side when Severus tucked his chin onto his shoulder.

"We will wait until later in the week and then owl them that I am ill and we will not be coming this year."

Furrowing his brow, Harry turned his face slightly towards him and asked, "Why you?" The way Severus' lips twisted at one corner was enough on it's own to make him smile, and Harry sagged further back against his chest as Severus tightened his arms around his waist.

"Because if we were to tell them _you_ are ill, then they will likely assume the real reason we are not coming, and we will be overrun with Floo calls and owl post to check in on you. If it is _I_ who is ill, then the fear of being hexed for disturbing us will keep them all away."

* * *

Harry frowned as he stepped back and surveyed the arrangement on the low table in front of the sofa. It wasn't terribly romantic, really – the fireplace was lit primarily for warmth against the bitter January cold outside the house, and although the lights were low, lamplight was hardly on par with candlelight. Even their dinner suddenly looked mundane to him as Harry looked at the gathering of plates on the table. It had been an emotional ordeal, standing over the oven and range for the better part of the late afternoon to cook something for Severus, with no idea whether or not it was all coming out properly. He'd read each of his recipes thrice over before he'd even begun cooking, and then checked them obsessively during the process to be sure that he didn't somehow miss any of the steps.

The end result, when he had finished frosting the small sponge cake and arranged their plates of roasted salmon, he had felt a strange mix of pride and guilt as he'd carried the plates into the sitting room. He hadn't cooked a proper meal since July, when he had first really noticed his sense of taste starting to go. Before that, he'd been in the kitchen all the time, but since then, it had all been Severus taking on the task of cooking for them both, despite his hatred of being in the kitchen. He'd only resorted to takeaway a handful of times that Harry could remember, and not once had he complained or tried to push Harry back into doing it himself.

With a sigh, Harry reached a hand up to rake his fingers through his hair. Nothing had been the same since the curse had really started taking hold of him; between stress and the weight of his depression, he'd been slowly but surely driving a wedge between himself and Severus at a moment when he needed him the most. They hadn't been intimate in months, and since Christmas, he'd hardly let Severus touch him at all beyond putting an arm around him as they slept. Severus had certainly stuck by him despite it all, but Harry was beginning to suspect that he had doubts.

Stiffening slightly as he heard the Floo flare up behind him, Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath in an effort to ease the coiling tension in his body before he turned in time to watch Severus step through the flames. For an instant, Severus' posture was drawn and tight, the way it often was after a rough day of classes, his lips pulled into a thin, pale line. As his gaze settled on Harry, though, the majority of his tension eased away with a soft sigh, and Severus began shrugging out of his outer robes as he stepped away from the fireplace.

"Harry," he started, reaching a hand out only to pause and turn his attention to the meal laid out on the coffee table. Harry watched Severus' brow furrow, beginning to wring his hands as he waited for him to say something. "You cooked?" Severus asked at last, and Harry nodded as he continued to twist one hand in the other.

"I did. Dinner. And there's dessert in the kitchen, too," Harry said, gesturing towards the doorway to the kitchen. He moved his hand to the back of his neck, rubbing at it anxiously as his gaze shifted to their dinner, his teeth sinking briefly into his lower lip. "I don't know if it's all any good. I didn't bother to try any of it since I know it wouldn't have helped anyway, but I tried, you know? I mean, it's your bloody _birthday_ , and I wanted to do something special, because it seems like we've just been drifting apart the past couple of months – I know it's because of _me_ , of course, but I -"

Severus silenced him with a kiss, having moved without him ever noticing until their bodies were nearly touching, and Harry looked up at him in wide-eyed surprise for a moment before a soft sigh escaped him and he melted into Severus. His lips were a little rough and chapped against his own, but they were _warm_ and he could feel them, the firm pressure as Severus leant closer and tangled his fingers in Harry's hair. Pressing himself closer, Harry brought his hands up to tangle them in the front of Severus' shirt as he returned the kiss, shuddering against Severus as heat began coursing through him slowly, bringing his body alive again for what felt like the first time in weeks.

When they separated, neither of them dared to move too far away, Severus' hand staying in Harry's hair while he kept his own hands fisted in his shirt. Looking up into Severus' eyes, Harry's breath caught in his throat as he took in the way they shone, a smile twisting up the corners of Severus' mouth.

"You will eat with me?" Severus asked, and Harry let out a laugh despite himself. He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, but it hadn't been that, although the words still brought a genuine smile to his face as he stepped back, waving a hand towards the coffee table.

"Why do you think I made two plates? I know it's not a terribly romantic set-up, but I thought it might be just the thing ..." Ducking his head as a faint flush began to creep up in his cheeks, Harry glanced up at Severus from the corner of his eye. "Do you like it, then?"

A lump lodged in his throat as Severus reached for him to lace their fingers together, and Harry blinked back a sudden wave of tears as he swallowed it down and squeezed Severus' hand tight in his own, allowing Severus to lead him towards the sofa.

"It's perfect, Harry. Thank you."

Harry let out a quiet sigh of relief and nodded as he settled beside Severus on the sofa. At a loss for anything more he could say for the moment, he pulled his plate over into his lap to poke at his salmon with his fork. In his periphery, he watched Severus take a bite from his own plate without any hesitation, seeming to just _trust_ that Harry had made everything perfectly, and Harry held his breath as he waited. When a low hum of approval rumbled in Severus' throat and he tucked into his supper with enthusiasm, a rush of warmth spread through Harry that brought tears welling up in his eyes once more and a small smile to his lips.

Turning his attention toward his own dinner then, Harry prodded at his piece of salmon again briefly before taking his first bite. Despite his inability to taste it, he let the piece of fish linger on his tongue for a moment, savouring it, and then swallowed thickly. He was bloody proud he'd managed a successful dinner even without being able to smell or taste anything as it cooked to be sure it turned out right, and Severus' quiet hum of approval beside him as he took another bite was the best compliment he could have gotten. But it was also bitter-sweet, being unable to share the dinner properly with Severus, and as he took his second bite, Harry closed his eyes, breathing in deep in an effort to help steady himself.

It wasn't until he felt Severus' hand warm against his cheek that he realized the tears welled up in his eyes had begun slipping free. Turning his face towards him, Harry found Severus watching him with a soft gaze as he leant into the hand on his face. His breath hitched as Severus' thumb moved, wiping at a stray tear, just before the plates levitated out of their laps and Severus reached for him to pull him over into his arms. As he settled against him, Harry buried his face against the curve of Severus' neck and squeezed his eyes tightly closed.

"It's not going to get better, is it?" he asked, his voice thick and rough to his own ears, even muffled as it was against Severus' skin. There was a long pause while Severus wound his arms tighter around his waist, bringing a hand up to stroke over his hair before he spoke, in a solemn tone.

"Not for some time, no, and it will get worse before it does … What?" Severus asked with a note of confusion when Harry began laughing silently.

Pulling back to look at him, one corner of Harry's mouth twisted with a half smile. "You know, anyone else would have lied to me. Tried to tell me it's not all bad – silver linings and small blessings, that sort of thing. But not you..."

"Would you have preferred the lies?" Severus asked with one eyebrow arching, and Harry quickly shook his head as he shifted, moving over into his lap properly and just sitting sideways with his legs stretched out across the cushions, leaning against Severus' chest.

"No," he said quietly, tipping his head against Severus' shoulder. Without hesitation, Severus' arm wound around his waist, and Harry felt close to him again for the first time in weeks, the easy touch settling him somewhat. "The lies just make it worse, really, like no one really understands how all this feels."

He paused, his smile turning down into a small frown as he looked at Severus for a moment. "Maybe that's why it helps to have _you_ , of all people, tell me the truth. You're not trying to soften the blow for either one of us, like you're trying to make sure we both are dealing with it."

"We would hardly make it through this, otherwise."

There was no trace of doubt in Severus' voice as he spoke, only a quiet sort of certainty, and Harry swallowed the lump that rose up in his throat at it. "Do you still want us to make it through this, then? Together?" His voice choked on the last, and he blinked slowly to hold back the tears that began welling up all over again when Severus tucked a hand under his chin to make him meet his eyes. "Like you said, it's going to get worse. Are you sure you want to go through all that because of me?"

Shaking his head, Severus moved the hand beneath his chin to brush his fingers across Harry's cheek, moving to curl his hand around the back of his neck and pull him closer, bumping their foreheads together. "I am certain I wish to go through it _with_ you, yes."

" _Why?_ " Harry asked despite himself. His voice was soft and choked with tears, and he moved his hands to tangle his fingers in the front of Severus' shirt. When Severus moved, he held his breath until he felt Severus' lips press a kiss to his forehead, closing his eyes as his hands clenched tighter in the fabric of his shirt.

"Because I love you," Severus answered finally, after a moment of silence passed between them. "And no matter how difficult things may become, I know that you love me as well. When it all is said and done, that is the only thing that matters."


End file.
